


Rules

by captain_americano



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits to Boyfriends, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 16:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_americano/pseuds/captain_americano
Summary: Ever since this all started they had… rules. Unspoken, but somehow mutually agreed upon. Just because Peter Parker was having casual sex with Wade Wilson didn’t mean he had thrownallsensibilities out the window.Rules are meant to be broken, and Peter and Wade are meant to fall together.





	Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by goodnight n go - Ariana Grande (don’t @ me she is a fkn warrior)

Ever since this all started they had… rules. Unspoken, but somehow mutually agreed upon. Just because Peter Parker was having casual sex with Wade Wilson didn’t mean he had thrown _all_ sensibilities out the window.

For example, in the beginning, when Peter had learned that Wade was also having casual relations with a certain time travelling douchebag, the silent rule had been made that they were allowed to sleep with other people, but they didn’t talk about it with each other. Of course, the follow-on unspoken rules were: no obligations, no expectations, and no jealousy, meaning if either of them weren’t free, or didn’t want to meet up — there were no hard feelings. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Then, there was the rule that no one else was allowed to know. Peter wasn’t ashamed and he didn’t especially care if people knew — he just hated being lectured. Judging by the fact Peter was still somewhat respected in the New York Superhero Community, he had to assume Wade hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, either.

Whether it was a rule, or by coincidence, they didn’t spend any down time together. They were either fighting crime together, or making a decent attempt at breaking the bed together, but there was never anything in-between. In-between time could get messy.

Safewords, enthusiastic consent, and (at the very least semi-)privacy were a given.

No sleeping over, no cuddling and NO KISSING were the biggest, loudest unspoken rules, but they weren’t always easy to abide by. One night, Peter had sprained his wrist on patrol and they’d stopped by Wade’s apartment to catch their breath (and promptly lose it again), and when they were done it was so late that all the public transport to Peter’s neighbourhood had stopped for the night, and he’d had to take a fifty-dollar cab back to his apartment, because the rules silently stated NO SLEEPOVERS.

On top of that, Peter was tactile by nature, so he craved the feeling of someone else’s skin against his, sometimes even beyond sex, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible if he and Wade were friends with benefits.

But really, they didn’t spend very much time together, so they were more… colleagues with benefits, as opposed to friends. Casual acquaintances having casual sex.

It was fine, it was _good._ Wade never asked for anything more than Peter was willing to give, and he sure as hell never showed any interest in anything beyond what they had, so Peter was satisfied. They had the perfect relationshi — companionship. The perfect companionship.

Until the rules started being broken.

 

* * *

 

The first rule that was broken was actually Peter’s fault and he didn’t realise at the time it would be the catalyst for the change in their whole dynamic. They were in the process of getting dressed after a quick nooner at Peter’s apartment when a knock at the door made them pause.

“I forgot I was having people over, sorry Wade,” Peter muttered with a curse. “Just a minute!” He shouted towards the door, slipping on a sweater and flattening his hair.

“It’s cool, I’ll just,” Wade clicked his tongue and pointed at the window with one hand as he fixed his mask in place with the other.

“No, don’t,” Peter said quickly, feeling awful at the thought of Wade sneaking out of the window like he was a dirty little secret (even though that’s kinda what he was). “We were just going to watch _Star Wars_ and play _Cards Against Humanity._ Will you stay?”

“You want Deadpool hanging around your friends?” Wade asked dubiously, and Peter nodded.

“These guys know I’m Spider-Man, and they trust me. And I — I trust you,” he said firmly.

“Oooh, stop it, Petey, you’ll leave me all a-flutter,” Wade said, fanning himself coquettishly.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well?”

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to beg, I’ll meet your lame nerd-friends,” Wade said cheerfully, skipping to the front door and opening it. Peter hurried to intercept, and it was a good thing because Ned was openly gaping and looked like he was gonna wet himself, Harry looked somewhat concerned, and Michelle looked like she did not care.

“Guys, this is Deadpool — Deadpool, that’s Ned, Harry, and MJ,” Peter said, elbowing Wade out of the way so he could let them all in.

“H-hi Mr Pool,” Ned said dropping into the seat closest to the door and staring. Peter rolled his eyes again, shutting the door behind them all.

“Please, Mr Pool was my father. You can call me Dead, or DP, or Wade,” he said, cupping his hands to form a heart shape that he directed at Ned. “Just don’t call me late for dinner!”

Peter bit back a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, but after a brief pause, Michelle snorted, and the tension was broken.

They played _Cards_ with _A New Hope_ playing in the background, and Peter was happy because all of his favourite people (excluding his... limited family) are in the same room, and he was certain they’re all having a great time. One by one, his guests leave until it was just him and Harry watching _Return of the Jedi_ and drinking cheap beer.

“So what’s the deal with you and Wade?” Harry said, so well-timed that Peter accidentally choked as he took a sip of beer.

“There’s no deal,” Peter coughed, keeping his eyes fixed on the television screen. 

“Mm-hm,” Harry said, clearly unconvinced. “Does he know that?” 

“What d’you mean?” Peter said quickly.

“There was just something about the way he looked at you,” Harry said vaguely, then in a darker tone, “and the way he looked at anyone who made you laugh that wasn’t him.”

“What, like he was jealous?” Peter snorted. The idea that Wade would be jealous over Peter was so ridiculous when Peter was the one who — well, it was just insane. There was no way.

“I’m just sayin’,” Harry shrugged defensively.

“And I’m just saying: nothing’s going on,” Peter said firmly. “Emotionally, at least,” he added in an undertone. Judging by Harry’s smirk and superior silence, he heard anyway.

 

* * *

 

Spider-Man was keeping an eye on the late night Thanksgiving celebrations when Wade dropped by the rooftop Peter was sitting on with two paper bags filled with burgers and fries in one hand, and a cardboard cup holder with two milkshakes in the other.

“It that all for you?” Peter asked, horrified.

“No, you ingrate,” Wade said, thrusting one of the bags at Peter and putting the shakes on the ground between them as he sat on the edge of the roof. “Half is for you.”

“You’ve never bought me food before,” Peter observed, hesitating for a moment and then retrieving a burger and unwrapping it.

“Haven’t I?” Wade said, absently scratching his masked chin. “Huh, that’s usually our trope. We fight crime and eat on rooftops. What makes this author think she’s so special that she can break tradition?”

“She’s probably just a normie, trying too hard to be ~unique,” Peter chuckled, going along with one of Wade’s so called ‘fourth-wall breaks’. He was almost used to Wade’s weird tangents by now.

“So how are the Harrys and the Michelles and the Neds of your world?” Wade asked, uncharacteristically.

“They’re all fine,” Peter said around a mouthful of fries. “Harry’s having some problems with his dad, so he’s been staying with me.” It was also why, inadvertently, Peter and Wade hadn’t had a chance to ‘catch up’ since the night they were all at Peter’s apartment. “He’s not used to slumming it, but he’s been polite about it.”

“Do you think you guys’ll make it permanent?” Wade asked, and it was probably the second most personal thing he’d ever asked Peter, right behind ‘can I eat you out?’

“No,” Peter shuddered, as opposed to the ‘yes frickin’ please’ he’d uttered to Wade’s _other_ question. 

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?” Wade said gleefully, and Peter laughed.

“No, nothing like that. I just can’t imagine living with someone again permanently, now that I’m so used to my own space. It would be different if I was in a relationship, I guess, but I don’t think I could live with a friend,” Peter said, finishing off his burger and reaching for his shake. 

“Oh, you’re — you’re not _with_ Harry?” Wade said, lifting his mask and shoving a whole burger into his mouth.

“No,” Peter frowned, half from Wade’s manners, and half from the thought of being _with Harry_ — or maybe the thought of Wade thinking he was with Harry. 

“Oh, that’s — yeah. I thought maybe… but, never mind.”

Peter peered at Wade in the relative dark of their rooftop. He seemed to be struggling with his words more than usual — or, ever. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a problem talking in the past.

“I’m not,” Wade cleared his throat. “Not with anyone either. Which is. Which is irrelevant, I guess.”

“Not Cable?” Peter couldn’t help but ask, attempting to sound casual.

“No. Not for a while. Nate was… difficult,” Wade said tactfully. Since when did Wade have tact?

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Peter said carefully, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Despite his words, he found that he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It’s cool,” Wade said cheerfully, “it all stopped a while ago so it’s NBD.” 

 

* * *

 

Peter hadn’t quite caught his breath yet, but he was already swinging his legs off the bed and trying to visually locate his boxers before committing to standing on his shaking, tired legs. He spotted them hanging off one of the handles on the bureau, and tilted his head side-to-side, stretching his neck as he stood. Behind him, Wade had rolled onto his stomach and crossed his arms below the pillow, his face smushed into the fabric. Peter silently pulled on his underwear and unlocked his cell phone, grimacing as he checked the weather — twenty-three degrees.

“What was that look for? Are you in pain? Was I too rough? Are you dying? Pete — _are you dying?”_ Wade demanded, but when Peter looked over he merely peering at Peter from where his head was buried in the pillow and there was no indication he’d moved. He mustn’t have been too concerned.

“Uh, no, that was — that was _good…”_ Peter said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he put his phone back on the bureau and picked his jeans up off the floor. “It’s just pretty cold out there and my radiator died before I left for work this morning.”

“What?” Wade said, sitting up so quickly Peter worried he might’ve pulled something. “Did you tell your landlord?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice. 

“‘Course I did,” Peter said, “I’m not an idiot. Or, maybe I am for believing him when he said he’d get it fixed today. He caught me on my way home earlier and told me he couldn’t get a repair guy until after the holidays.”

“You’re joking! It’s the middle of winter! Want me to beat him up?” Wade offered, but Peter shook his head with a slight smile as he stepped into his jeans.

“It’s not so bad. Harry’s back living with his father now, so I won’t have to deal with his whining, plus I’ve got tons of blankets, and I stuffed old socks into all the cracks where the cold air comes in,” Peter shrugged delicately, grabbing his sweater off the top of the door and pulling it on.

“Do you know what happens to little spiders in the cold Petey? They shrivel up and die. I don’t want that on my conscience,” Wade said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his bare chest petulantly.

“Okay?” Peter said, confused, and running his fingers through his hair to try and downplay the thoroughly-fucked look he knew he must’ve been sporting. Not that, at one in the morning, he was particularly concerned with who he might run into on his way home.

“Okay,” Wade agreed, patting the empty space beside him invitingly.

“Uh, no?” Peter said, tilting his head to peer at Wade. “We don’t do that?”

“There aren’t any rules that say we can’t,” Wade replied, cocking one of his hairless brows.

 _Yes, there are,_ Peter wanted to say, but Wade had the thermostat set to eighty, and from the brief pauses to reach for the lube and five minute breathers for one or both of them to get hard again, Peter knew that Wade’s bed was like lying on a cloud.

“Fine,” Peter reluctantly conceded, taking off his jeans but leaving his boxers and sweater on, before climbing back onto the bed. Wade didn’t bother with any clothes at all, he simply turned the lamp off and rolled over to face away from Peter, muttering something about having a conversation with Peter’s landlord in the morning.

For the first time, Peter wondered if they were both as clear on the unspoken rules as he had thought.

 

* * *

 

Peter was drunk at a party at OSCORP Tower, because that’s what you did when you were friends with Harry Osborn and it was New Years Eve. He hated parties, though, and was ready to leave by eleven o’clock, but he didn’t really want to go all the way back to his apartment.

He decided to text Wade. 

Nikki Webster: _Wade._

Nikki Webster: _Waaaaade._

Deadpoolicious: _yes petey?_

Nikki Webster: _obsorn is boring can i come to yours?_

Deadpoolicious:  _ofc do u need me 2 pick u up?_

Nikki Webster: _nooooo no thank u_

Nikki Webster: _but also how_ _do i get to your place from opscor_

Nikki Webster: _and also also_ _why did u name me nikki webster idk who that is_

Deadpoolicious: _thats bc ure american nd a toddler. b there in 5min dont do NEthing i wouldnt do_

Nikki Webster: _would it’ve been so hard for you to type ANYTHING_

Peter slipped is phone in his pocket on the third try and waved vaguely in the direction he thought he last saw Harry, and headed for the elevator. Downstairs, he waited outside in the freezing night hoping Wade would find him before Lady Death did. Even with the alcohol keeping him warm, he couldn’t deny the snowflakes drifting through the air would probably start to chill him sooner rather than later. 

After a few minutes of waiting — or maybe a few hours, Peter was entertaining himself by trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue — Wade rounded the corner of the building, wearing a large woollen coat and a fluffy pink beanie.

“You look adorable!” Peter cooed, reaching up to swipe at the pompom on the tip of the beanie.

“Yeah, well, you look like a puppy trying to eat the snow,” Wade snarked, but Peter didn’t really think there was anything wrong with looking like a puppy.

“Take me home,” Peter said dramatically, marching off in the opposite direction from which Wade had arrived.

“Hey, Petey-Puppy, it’s this way,” Wade said with a sharp whistle and a happy grin. Peter rolled his eyes and stomped back, gesturing for Wade to lead the way.

The walk to Wade’s apartment was much shorter than Peter expected, but by the time they arrived Peter was shivering and decidedly sober. “Thanks for coming to get me and letting me stay, Wade.”

“No problem, Spides, I couldn’t stand the thought of you wandering through the big bad city on a cold winter’s night,“ Wade drawled, and Peter smiled softly.

“I know. You’re a good guy, Wade.”

“You take that back!” Wade gasped, and Peter laughed. “C’mon, Petey, let’s get you to bed.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mr Wilson?” Peter asked, fluttering his eyebrows.

“Nah, not tonight,” Wade said, leading the way to the bedroom. “Don’t want you to get a dicking under the influence. 

“DUI, nice,” Peter snorted softly, “but I’m fine, now. Really.”

“Sure Pete,” Wade said, “now get your pretty ass in that bed and get a good nights sleep. I might even make you my hangover pancakes in the morning.”

Peter rolled his eyes but took off his damp clothes and climbed into the bed, snuggling into the warm comforter. He watched through his lashes as Wade puttered around the bedroom, getting ready for bed, before finally turning off the light and joining Peter, lying on his back. As soon as Wade was settled, Peter shuffled closer, his stomach twisting and his heart in his throat. 

“Happy New Year, Wade,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Wade’s cheek. Wade’s eyes flew open, and he turned his head to the side to gaze at Peter in the dim light. Peter swallowed loudly, and moved forward again, this time brushing his lips softly against Wade’s.

Wade let out a sharp exhale through his nose and crushed his lips against Peter’s, bringing his hand out from beneath the covers to gently hover over Peter’s jaw. “Happy New Year, Petey,” he said, pulling away. Peter smiled into the darkness, and broke the only rule left, snaking his arm over Wade’s waist and holding him close.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Peter slowly woke up to find a fair distance between himself and Wade in the bed, and Wade lying on his back with his eyes tightly scrunched shut. Peter yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes before poking Wade’s bicep. “I think I recall you offering to make me hangover pancakes this morning?” Peter prompted, his voice a little raw from sleep. Wade opened his eyes and turned to frown at him.

“I had a dream last night — or, at least, I think it was a dream, because we don’t do that in real life, and I usually have that kind of dream about you, but you were also here so I’m not sure if it was a dream or if you really did —” Wade was rambling, and it was really too early for that, so Peter leaned forward and interrupted him by pressing a kiss to his lips. “— you really did kiss me,” he trailed off weakly.

“Is that okay?” Peter asked hesitantly.

“We don’t kiss,” Wade said, looking confused.

Peter blinked. “You’re right. Yes. Of course we don’t kiss.” 

He sat up, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, and swinging his legs off the bed. _No expectations or obligations,_ he reminded himself as he stood and collected his clothes from the floor, _no need to be hurt or upset._

“Wait, Peter,” Wade said, following him out of the bed and gently grabbing his arm. “We _can_ do that… it just — it took me by surprise.”

“It took you by surprise?” Peter said, suddenly very much hurt _and_ upset. “There were _rules_ and we both willingly broke _all_ of them, and it — it takes you by _surprise_ that I fell in love with you?” 

“You fell in love with me?”

“Duh,” Peter said, rolling his eyes and shrugging Wade’s hand off his arm, “but whatever. Just forget about it.” Peter sighed, and though it sucked he knew he couldn’t keep sleeping with Wade if he didn’t feel the same way. “I’m sorry, Wade. It’s been fun. Really, _really_ fun, but I don’t think I can do casual with you anymore.” 

“I don’t want to do casual either; I never really did,” Wade said softly. “I was just willing to take whatever bone — heh — you’d throw me.” 

“Oh, Wade,” Peter sighed again, looking into Wade’s deep, expressive eyes. “I wanted to rip Cable apart for touching you when you should’ve been mine,” he confessed, taking both himself and Wade by surprise, judging from the look on Wade’s face. Wade also looked somewhat smug.

“Want to have completely exclusive, meaningful, commitment-y sex with your new boyfriend?” Wade asked, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“As long as you make me those hangover pancakes after, boyfriend,” Peter grinned, dropping his clothes and grabbing Wade instead.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Do Americans know who Nikki Webster is? Or is she just an aggressively Australian Millenial icon?
> 
> Also sorry if they (Wade in particular) seem OOC. It’s been a minute since I’ve read/wrote Spideypool. I’m more into ~~Starker~~ other pairings at the moment.


End file.
